Chapter 6 - The Account Settled
The smell of salt water, diesel fuel, and rusted iron filled Warehouse 14 at the Providence shipping docks.
Rain slammed against the corrugated tin roof, creating a deafening roar that drowned out the quiet weeping coming from the center of the room.
Thomas Martin was tied to a heavy wooden chair beneath a single overhead light bulb. His expensive Italian suit was ruined, stained with rainwater and sweat. His hands were bound behind his back with thick zip-ties.
Standing in the shadows around him were six of Diego’s heaviest enforcers, their arms crossed, their faces unreadable.
The heavy sliding door of the warehouse creaked open.
Diego stepped inside, holding a large black umbrella. Beside him, dressed in a sleek black coat, walked me.
When Thomas saw my face in the stark light, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"Noelle?!" Thomas gasped, his voice high-pitched and hysterical. "Noelle, thank God! Tell these animals to let me go! Diego, what is the meaning of this?! We had a deal! You took my sister, you took the southern docks—"
"Shut up, Thomas," Diego said smoothly, shaking the water off his umbrella and handing it to Marco.
Diego pulled up a folding metal chair, set it three feet in front of Thomas, and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees.
"You really are a remarkable piece of human garbage, Thomas," Diego said, his tone conversational, almost polite. "Do you know what I found when I unbuttoned your sister's wedding gown last night?"
Thomas swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically between Diego and me. "I... I don't know what you're talking about! She’s a Martin! She was raised like a queen!"
"She was raised like a prisoner in a torture chamber," Diego snapped, his voice suddenly cutting through the warehouse like a whip. "Your father burned her. He whipped her. He broke her bones. And you sat in the hallway drinking scotch, watching the door."
"He was my father!" Thomas shrieked, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. "What was I supposed to do?! He would have killed me if I stopped him!"
"You were her older brother," I said, stepping forward out of the shadows, my voice cold as slate. "Your job was to protect me, Thomas. Instead, you sold me to the highest bidder the moment Arthur’s stroke made you desperate."
"Noelle, please!" Thomas begged, squirming against the zip-ties. "I’m your blood! We’re the last of the Martins! You can't let him do this to me!"
"There are no more Martins, Thomas," I said, pulling a thick black leather binder from under my coat and tossing it onto his lap.
Thomas looked down at the binder. His eyes caught the golden seal on the leather cover.
His face turned ashen. "The... the vault ledger? How did you... where did you get this?!"
"Your vault is empty, Thomas," Diego informed him with a dark, satisfied smile. "Your offshore accounts have been drained and transferred to federal receivership. Your security guards have already quit because their payroll checks bounced twenty minutes ago. By tomorrow morning, the FBI will seize the docks, and your father’s medical care facility will be funded solely by state Medicaid."
"You... you destroyed us..." Thomas whispered, completely broken, his head falling forward. "You ruined everything..."
"No, Thomas," I said, kneeling down so I was eye-level with his pale, trembling face. "You destroyed yourselves. I just helped clean up the mess."
Diego stood up, snapping his fingers. Two of his operatives stepped forward with heavy steel handcuffs.
"Are you going to kill him?" Thomas sobbed, staring at the cuffs.
"Kill you?" Diego let out a cold, dark laugh. "And make you a martyr? Absolutely not, Thomas. The state police are waiting outside right now with an arrest warrant for twenty counts of racketeering, murder-for-hire, and corporate fraud—backed by full documentation provided by your darling sister."
Thomas gaped at me in total horror. "You... you went to the cops?!"
"I went to justice, Thomas," I said, standing up and turning my back on him. "Enjoy federal prison. I hear the food is terrible."
As the officers dragged Thomas screaming and pleading into the rainy night, Diego stepped up beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, sheltering me from the drafty wind.
"How do you feel, Mrs. Ramos?" Diego asked softly.
May you like
I looked at the empty warehouse, listening to the rain on the roof, feeling the heavy, suffocating weight that had rested on my chest for twenty-three years finally melt away into nothingness.
"I feel free," I whispered.
